Intoxicated
by Literary Assassin
Summary: Donatella orders the Brut. But it's what happens afterwards that really shakes things up. Entry for the Mirandy Year of Fun and Frolics Bingo Challenge. Card 1 - Intoxicated.


**A/N: I finished this while listening to a song called "Better Hide the Wine". Thought that was amusing.  
This is unbeta-ed and as such all mistakes are mine. Feel free to point them out, although I still haven't gone back and changed the ones from last time! Duh.  
This is an entry for the Mirandy Year of Fun and Frolics Bingo Challenge. Card 1. Intoxicated**

 **Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

-0-

"Gosh, but you're fetching."

"Oh shit."

"You are And-eee. Fetching. More than fetching really."

"Miranda, how much have you had to drink?"

"No-fing," she slurred, going cross-eyed to look at her nose. "I broke this once, you know. Now, it's all I can see."

"Miranda," Andy said sharply, taking Miranda's hand from where it was poking herself in the nose. "Listen to me carefully."

"I always do," she said happily, with a sigh. Andy's eyebrows shot up her forehead, but she shook off the shock. Miranda had a meeting with Derek Lam in, she looked at her watch, half an hour and she was toast.

"How much did you drink?"

"A bottle? I think?" Miranda looked puzzled. "Why did Donatella order the Brut? She knows I'm allergic."

"Oh shit."

Andy pulled out her phone and tried not to hyperventilate as Miranda's head fell to her lap, and a loud snore was ripped from her throat.

"Fuck." Andy stared. "Roy, keep driving. Take us around the park for a while."

"Yes ma'am."

He'd taken to calling her that lately and she rolled her eyes at his grin.

"There's a Dr's over on 7th?" he called, glancing backwards.

"We'd never hear the end of it," she said ruefully. "Maybe, pull up at the next chemist, then circle the block. I'll go see if there's anything I can get her to make her throw up, or something."

"Got it."

She ran into the pharmacy and up to the counter, thankful for the relatively quiet corner shop.

"I need something to make someone throw up," she said quickly.

"Huh?"

"I need something to help someone throw up. My friend," she waved her hand absently towards the door. "Has a job interview and has totally drunk too much."

"Oh!" the girls said, stepping around the counter and showing her a line of medication. "These work."

"Anything to sober someone up really quickly?"

"No," the girl said, only mildly interested. "This works," she nodded to the packet in Andy's hand. "Or a cold shower. And a cheeseburger usually."

"Right."

Andy had never been as drunk as Miranda was now, and she only hoped these were a good idea. She took stock of where they were and made a quick decision.

"I'll take that and some Excedrin," she nodded resolutely.

She ran out the door, just as Roy was swinging around the corner and managed to slip in between the traffic and into the car without too much bother.

"Let's go to mine Roy, it'll be easier there."

"And-rey-aaah."

Andy rolled her eyes.

"Yes Miranda."

"You're beautiful."

"Thank you."

She'd seen far too much shit to take any notice of Miranda right now. Even if what she was saying was the stuff of dreams.

"No!" Miranda surged upwards, narrowly missing Andy's chin. "I mean it. You're," she swallowed and her eyes rolled comically. "You're..." she swayed in her seat and grabbed her head. "Andy, why do I feel like shit?"

"You're drunk."

"No! None- none- sense! I never get drunk."

"Donatella ordered the Brut."

"Shiiiiiit."

Andy bit her tongue to stop from laughing as she looked at Miranda going a funny grey colour.

"In 5 minutes we'll be at my apartment. You can have a shower and we'll figure it out from there."

"Right." Miranda squeaked. "Will," she swallowed, leaning over and retching. Andy, having a little more presence of mind, managed to throw a bag at Miranda's feet, just catching the most of it.

"Maybe we won't need these," she grimaced as the smell filled up the small space. She opened the sunroof nearly all the way and Miranda sat back, the wind in her face, gulping the air.

"Won't your," she grimaced again and cleared her throat, nodding shakily as Andy passed her a bottle of water. "Friend," she spat the word. "Be there."

"Who?"

"Your," she swallowed hard again. "Friend."

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Andy said quietly. "But we're here. Let's get you upstairs and then we'll go from there."

-0-

"Andréa?"

"Yes Miranda?"

"Would you," Miranda grimaced as she felt her stomach roll. "Would you sit here and talk to me? I need to think about something else."

"Of course," Andy said, genuinely meaning it. "Let me know when you're ready and I'll come in."

Andy heard the shower go on and stood by the door, trying not to imagine what was happening on the other side.

"Fuck I feel like shit," Miranda groaned as the shower turned off. "Remind me to blacklist Donatella."

"Yes Miranda."

"You can come in," Miranda said meekly.

Andy entered slowly and saw Miranda looking lost in the middle of the already too small bathroom.

"Come on," Andy said, passing her a toothbrush. "Did you take the Excedrin?"

"Yes," Miranda muttered, leaning against the sink.

"I'd cancel it for you, but they're in Australia until the 10th and you need them before then."

"I don't need anybody Andréa," Miranda tried, although paled again as Andy looked at her balefully. "Yes, fine. Help me, I'm in no condition to put on mascara."

"Right."

Despite her handle on the situation, Andy was shitting herself. Miranda's beautiful, pale shoulder blades seemed so delicate. And her long neck and cute little ears were something else entirely. She may have agreed to put on her boss' mascara, but that would only be possible if she could stop her hands from trembling.

"Here's your clothes. Do you put makeup on before or after?" Andy said absently. "I usually put my foundation on before I put on my blouse, but -" she realised she was babbling and bit her tongue.

"It's an unusual situation Andréa, and you're handling it rather well. You haven't babbled like that in a very long time."

"Well."

She left again, to let Miranda get dressed, but in truth, Andy wasn't sure what to say, except she knew Miranda was right. They'd settled in once Emily had gone. The fallout from Paris was that Miranda had had to give up her second assistant. Which she'd told Andy, was Irv's mistake as it cost more to messenger the outfits all over the city, rather than paying a salary to an assistant and getting that for free. But that was firmly on his doorstep, not hers.

That was another thing that had changed. Miranda had started explaining things. Even Nigel had noticed it, though he had only alluded to it in the beginning. Now, it was so commonplace that nobody batted an eyelid.

"Andréa, you can come back."

Miranda was mostly dressed now and had a bit more colour in her cheeks. Her eyes were rather glassy still though.

"I look like shit."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Andy said quietly, pointing to the edge of the bath where Miranda could sit. "I think you'd have to try very hard to look like shit."

Miranda didn't reply, but she didn't need to as she cocked an eyebrow up and tilted her head over to look at Andy like she did sometimes.

"I've messaged Derek's people and told them you'd be half an hour later than we expected. They had blocked 2 hours for you, so they're fine. We're not in too much of a rush."

"Thank you," Miranda said quietly, closing her eyes.

"You're welcome. Hold still. God knows I have enough of an issue doing this on my own face, let alone yours."

"I trust you."

That was ultimately what it was. Miranda trusted her. It was obvious once you got down to it. She did. More than perhaps anyone else she knew, Miranda trusted her with everything.

"I know," Andy said, acknowledging it for the first time. Miranda's eyes opened for a beat, looking up into Andy's before she nodded and closed them again.

They progressed in silence, Andy gently, and carefully making up Miranda's face, while Miranda just sat. Finally, Andy professed that she was done and Miranda stood, with a hand from Andy and looked at herself critically in the mirror.

"Hmm, a bit darker than I would usually opt for, but not bad Andréa. We'll make a fashion lover out of you yet."

"Don't you think I've changed from then?" Andy said quietly, a little hurt at the comment.

"You'll have to take what I say for the next few hours with a pinch of salt dear," Miranda sighed, leaning against the sink with her eyes closed. "I am not necessarily in control of my tongue."

Andy laughed, making Miranda smile.

"I do think you've changed, but I worry about you."

She looked angry at herself for saying so, but Andy's interest was piqued.

"Why?"

"Cruel," Miranda muttered, glaring only a little at her. "Because you've given up on your dream to become a journalist, or," Miranda waved and wobbled a bit. "Whatever."

"Come on, we have to go. We'll talk more in the car."

Andy held out her arm and Miranda took it, leaning against her slightly. They were in a quiet part of town and Andy knew that it would be fairly deserted at this time of day but she didn't want to take any chances. She wrapped a scarf gently around Miranda's hair and put her big sunglasses on her, locking up behind her.

Finally ensconced in the car, Andy leant forward and whispered something to Roy, who looked at her with wide eyes.

"Trust me."

"On your head," he muttered, but nodded.

"I haven't given up," Andy said quietly. "Or," she checked to make sure Miranda was listening. "My outlook on life has changed, but that was to be expected. I was so," she paused here, searching for the words. "Green. Naive," she nodded, liking it better. "I was so full of myself and then, I learned what real life was and I was glad to be somewhere real," she snorted. "Which you know, at a magazine, how silly, but it was. I could see what it took to be you and I knew that it would take me longer than a year to make it where I wanted to go. My dreams got more long-term."

"And yet, you stay," Miranda said quietly. "You should have gone six months ago."

"You didn't say anything either," Andy protested, looking at her.

"Why would I?" Miranda muttered, clearing her throat after a time. "You're the best assistant I've ever had."

"What?"

"I won't repeat it," Miranda smiled. "But you are. This year has been exemplary. Emily was good at her job, but you are exceptional. You could do it."

"Holy fuck, Nigel said that's what you were doing!" Andy gaped at her, finally understanding. "I didn't believe him."

"Well, I often explain myself to people, so I can see why," Miranda said, snorting as Andy blinked owlishly. "Why are we here?" she said suddenly, looking around.

"I have it under good authority that it'll help."

"No."

"It's once. In an emergency."

"No."

"Miranda."

"Fuck."

"That's what I thought," Andy grinned. "If it's any consolation, I'm getting one too, because God knows I've craved one for about two and a half years."

"Bloody hell."

"You sounded remarkably like Emily then," Andy said, looking sideways at Miranda.

She relayed the order to Roy, who passed it back gratefully as they exited the drive-through.

"No one breathes a word of this," Miranda said, looking at the two of them with a withering glare.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Andy replied for them both. "Now eat. We're about 15 minutes away."

"Fine."

It was sinful. That's what it was. Who'd have thought a McDonald's cheeseburger would be such a sexual item, but Andy would never look at them the same way again. She stopped with hers halfway to her mouth while Miranda moaned around hers.

"Shut up," Miranda said quietly. "You've been craving them for two and half years? I haven't had one since 1992. And while they are not a culinary masterpiece -"

"There's just something about them."

"Indeed," Miranda said with a smile. "Fuck what a nightmare."

"We'll get through it, we always do."

"I'd have sent you if it wasn't the last time I'd see him for three months."

"I'd have gone."

"This isn't going to work if you keep doing that," Miranda said quietly.

"What isn't?"

"Me, passing on the torch."

"Maybe I don't want the torch, did you ask yourself that?"

"I -"

That worried her. Andy saw the thought cross her mind and she looked at her hard, studying every part of her for a moment. Whatever she saw in Andy's face made her frown.

"You don't want it."

"I -"

"No, I can see it. You don't."

"It's not my passion. I don't see it the way you do. I don't look at a dress and think about all the ways it can change the world. I cannot command the world of fashion like you can."

"For the first time in a long time, I have made an error."

"No," Andy shook her head. "Because you are teaching me other things that are important to me. I might not take the baton from you, but you can be sure I'll take it from someone else."

Miranda sighed and took the last bite of her cheeseburger thoughtfully.

"What was I seeing then?" she said quietly, inspecting her fingernails. "I proceeded down this road because I thought I saw a hunger in you for more?"

Andy gulped and tried not to choke on the burger. She dropped her eyes sheepishly and refused to look up for the rest of the ride. She didn't reply when Miranda asked her if she was finished and she didn't look up at her as they sat down around the table from Derek Lam.

It was only when they were leaving that Andy finally got caught. Anika, Derek's production manager had stopped her to ask her about something they had talked of previously and in parting had told her to take care of Miranda, as always and Andy had turned, bumping into Miranda, who had stood waiting for them while they spoke. The impact made her look up and it was then that Miranda understood. Andy saw it. The eyes went wide and that shade of blue seemed to light up with lightning bolts.

"Car."

They walked imperiously to the car, Miranda waving Roy off and opening the door herself for Andy to slide in. She grunted as she dropped down and closed the privacy glass between Roy and themselves, turning as they pulled out.

"How long."

"What?" Andy said, trying to play it off.

"How long?"

"Two and a half years?"

"What?"

"How long have I worked for you?" Andy asked quietly.

"Nearly three years."

"Then two years and about 300 days."

Miranda sat back without making a sound and they stayed that way for the majority of the journey. Andy's hands were shaking and she wanted to burst into tears. She felt the car slow and they got out, again in silence. Considering they'd spent a lot of time, just in each other's presence being quiet, this was weird. This was a tense silence that Andy didn't like at all. She wanted to go back.

Andy sighed as she got to her desk and dumped her stuff on top as Miranda swept into her office, closing the door behind her. Andy dropped into her chair and started doing what she was good at. Her job.

-0-

"Andréa."

She looked up to the heavens and pleaded that she'd misheard. That Miranda didn't want her to come upstairs to the sitting room tonight.

"Andréa?"

"I'm coming," Andy called. "Do you want the book?"

"No."

That surprised Andy, but it also didn't. It filled her with a sliver a fear. Perhaps this was it. This was the moment that Andy would be out on her ass. No longer able to look after Miranda. No longer able to see her every single day. Fuck the job. She didn't care. But Miranda. God, Miranda.

"Yes?"

"Sit."

"I'd rather not," she said quietly.

"I'm not firing you," Miranda sighed. "I," she rubbed her nose thoughtfully. "I'm not pushing you away. I was going to," she took a swig of her scotch. "Explain, actually."

"What?"

"Please sit," Miranda said, putting the drink down and holding out her hand.

Andy did as she was told and slumped into the sofa, trying not to look at Miranda as she turned towards her.

"Do you know why I was teaching you how to run Runway?"

"Cos you want to retire?"

"No," Miranda smiled. "Do you think I need to?"

"God no," Andy said, biting her lip at the outburst. "I mean. No."

"Then why?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Because I thought it would make you happy."

"You," Andy frowned and looked up to meet Miranda's big blue eyes. "What?"

"I thought giving you Runway would make you happy."

Andy frowned as they continued to stare until it hit her. Her eyes opened so wide, she could almost feel them popping out of her skull.

"Wait, WHAT?"

"I had thought you were with cook-boy. Whatever his name was."

"WHAT!"

"Andréa."

"Sorry, but what the fuck! You would," she realised the implications. "Holy fuck Miranda. You'd give me Runway?"

"I'd give you the world."

It was barely a whisper, but it shot straight into Andy's heart like an arrow from Cupid's bow.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit."

Andy couldn't take it all in. Her mind was spinning and bless Miranda, she let her sit there and work through it. After a while, Miranda's hand crept forward and took one of Andy's between her own two.

"Holy fucking shit," Andy sighed, looking down at them, joined together. "I -"

"Have dinner with me?"

"Yes," Andy said, nodding, then grinning and widening it to a blinding smile. "Absolutely yes."

Miranda picked Andy's hand up and kissed the back, but Andy was done with going slow. She moved closer and cupped Miranda's cheek.

"No more champagne with Donatella," Andy grinned, running her nose over Miranda's, testing the water.

"I will only agree to that if you kiss me right now," Miranda whispered.

"Fair enough," Andy said, joining their lips and getting lost forever.


End file.
